I don’t know if the other paperdoll bloggers would agree, but to me, Halloween is the supreme paperdoll holiday, so much that the thought of a month of costumes can pull me out of the deepest slump. In my humdrum real life I don’t like to be scared, and I don’t usually even bother slapping together a costume, but for Sylvia, Grace and company I’ve done some of my best work: poison-green masquerade gowns, cute ladybugs, scarecrows with real, entirely fearless crows. So let us celebrate this month together: we’ll enjoy closets full of imaginary costumes and, I hope, a couple of good stories to go along with them. I shall be the High Priestess of Paperdoll Halloween, and sacrifice dozens of Prismacolors to the pencil sharpener! And here is what I might like to wear for such a job, had I but fabric enough and time.

I myself may be a capricious and unstable sort of high priestess, but the patience of the multitudes touches my heart, so I offer a psychedelic sort of red version of today’s outfit as well.

It seemed to Aithne like she was the only one of the three who bothered keeping up appearances anymore, the only one with any sense of propriety. The things her sisters wore these days! You couldn’t even blame it on a generation gap, as they were all equally old — no — they had positively lost their pride.

It had come to a head two years ago when Medea came to visit, breezing through her door with a tan and a take-out box full of hen’s teeth. First off, she had insisted on being called Madison. (Madison!) Second, she displayed her new cardigan (did she say it was from the End of the Land? Horrid place, she was sure) with wicked, rebellious delight, stretching out an arm as though she expected Aithne to pet it. Finally, she had laughed at her sister’s new robes, remarking that it looked like she had her grocery list written on her hem and that she was totally stuck in the 1800s. Aithne replied that she very well might be, but it was much better than being stuck as a newt, the truth of which she proceeded to demonstrate. Mehitabel had had to step in (and stepping was something she quite liked since she had discovered thousand-dollar high heels — imagine that, going to your kitchen, instead of having your tea come to you, just for effect) to de-newt Medea, since Aithne refused to do so without an apology, and Medea’s communication skills had been reduced to skittering around and switching her tail.

Aithne had had no contact with Mehitabel or Medea since, after yelling at the both of them that the family art was going to hell in a handbasket, a handbasket filled with pastel cardigans and Italian stilettos. They had left in high dudgeon, but she had been proved right by the grave injuries Medea had sustained attempting a ritual wearing her capris and cardigan one day; one does not, apparently, serve a traditionalist entity in modern styles.

For any of you who follow my paperdollverse, I believe that this set of robes is from a new collection from my wizard-world fashion designer responsible for this set of sunset-colored dress robes and this cool-colored set. Aithne is a witch, but she isn’t technically a part of that universe, so she had to go rather a ways out of her way for it and ended up paying quite dearly for it; she believes Medea got off lightly for insulting it.